


Persistent State

by havenwolds



Series: Foundation [3]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Face-Fucking, Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 09:48:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16365569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havenwolds/pseuds/havenwolds
Summary: Hank and Connor are back to work on Monday, but Connor has some trouble focusing.





	Persistent State

Hank had a crick in his neck. Although, considering the amount of time he’d spent going down on Connor over the weekend, he guessed he probably should’ve expected it.

Not that it had _only_ been going down on him. For a guy who still wasn’t capable of penetrative sex (and what a disorienting discovery _that_ had been, when Hank’s hands had wandered between Connor’s legs and found only smooth skin where he might have reasonably expected an asshole to be), they’d definitely found their fair share of things to get up to.

The top-notch weekend he’d had was one of his few consolations on what turned out to be a hell of a boring Monday morning. That and having a great view of Connor’s ass as the two of them methodically checked in evidence from their latest case, his customary white button-down tucked tidily into the waist of his belted dress slacks.

In fact, he’d had a view of that ass for a surprisingly long time, as Connor hadn’t moved from his position on the other side of the room for what must have been at least ten minutes. He had his back turned to Hank, facing into a wall of evidence shelves like he was in the goddamned Blair Witch Project. Hank had lost track of how long it’d been since he said anything.

“Hey, Connor,” Hank called, his voice a little bit louder than strictly necessary. “How’s it going over there?”

No response. Hank frowned. Setting his data pad down on an empty shelf, he crossed the room to where Connor stood. “Connor, what the fuck, you shut down on me or something?”

Still no response. Hank leaned a bit more into Connor’s personal space, trying to get a better look at his face. His expression was placid, staring out at nothing in particular, but at least his LED was clearly active, circling in lazy yellow loops at his temple.

“Hey, space cadet.” Hank snapped his fingers in front of Connor’s face. “You in there?”

Connor actually _startled_. “What?” he asked, jerking his head in Hank’s direction, wide-eyed.

“You were spacing out,” Hank said, trying to sound like he was ribbing him, but it was out of character for Connor not to be aware of every tiny thing going on around him. Mildly concerning, in fact. Maybe all the sex had worn down his battery.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Connor’s shoulders relaxed and his eyelashes dropped as he turned back to look at the evidence shelves again. “I was… thinking.”

“Yeah? About what?”

“…Nothing.”

Hank’s eyebrows furrowed. “Nothing, huh. Everything all right? I need to blow dust out of you or something?”

Connor’s face seemed to pull taut; the LED blinked yellow again. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

Hank considered pressing the issue for a moment longer, but chose to let it go. Sometimes Connor got into these introspective moods; Hank tended to let him be unless he seemed overtly distressed. He clapped a hand on Connor’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “All right, well, if you’re done with your stuff, let’s hit the road. I’m fuckin’ starving.”

Hank spun on his heel, striding back out toward the archive room doors; it took him a few beats to notice that Connor wasn’t following. “Hey. Seriously, do I need to take you to a tech? You’re starting to freak me out here.”

The line of Connor’s body was rigid. “I’m all right, Lieutenant. I just… have some things to finish up here. Go ahead without me; I’ll catch up with you.”

“Connor, I’m not gonna leave you here glitching out unless you tell me what’s going on.”

The room lapsed into silence for long enough that Hank started to worry he really would need to call for a tech, but finally Connor said in a tense voice, “…I have an erection.”

A moment passed for that to sink in. Connor didn’t move. Then, finally—Hank couldn’t help it—a laughing breath escaped through his nose.

“I don’t see how this is funny.”

Hank grinned. “It’s a little funny.”

The expression on Connor’s face turned so morose that Hank crossed the room back to him and ruffled his hair with a chuckle. “Hey, come on. Happens to the best of us.” His hand came to rest at the back of Connor’s head, fingertips rubbing at Connor’s scalp, and some of the tension ebbed out of Connor’s shoulders. “Yeah. Relax.”

When Connor turned his face back to Hank, his eyes were heavy-lidded. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Hank’s hand came to a stop; that contemplative note in Connor’s voice was dangerous. “…About what?”

“About you touching me,” Connor murmured. He almost imperceptibly wobbled in place, dropping his eyeline to the top buttons of Hank’s shirt. The guy’s lips really were always parted, Hank’s brain offered up unhelpfully. “About touching you.”

To his credit, Hank leaned his weight back just out of Connor’s reach when it looked like the android was about to extend a hand. “Hey, hey, c’mon, we’re at work.”

Connor frowned. “Yes, I'm aware.”

“Just sounds an awful lot like you're trying to seduce me, is all.”

“Is it working?” A smile finally warmed Connor’s face—too warm, just this side of impish. He took a tentative step forward and this time Hank allowed him to close the gap between them and press a thigh against Hank’s hip. The touch accepted, Connor laid a hand against Hank’s chest; not moving, just resting there like a warm ember. The outline of Connor’s cock in his slacks honestly hadn’t been _that_ visible, but Hank was very aware of it now, the bulge of it pressed against Hank’s thigh like a greeting.

“Evidence room isn’t exactly private, Connor,” Hank frowned. As interesting as the scenario was, he didn’t really relish the idea of being walked in on mid-sex by Ben fucking Collins. He didn’t make any move to step out of groping range, however.

“I can override the security cameras remotely.”

Hank quirked an eyebrow. “Can’t somebody just walk in?”

“I’ll disable the palm scanner.”

Well. Damn. Against his better judgment, what little there was of it, a grin tugged at Hank’s mouth. “Shit. ‘Deviant’ is right.”

Something glittered in Connor’s eyes, and Hank had barely a moment to register that he was perhaps creating a monster before the slim fingers on his chest slid between the buttons of his shirt to stroke into the curls there. “Please, Hank. I’ve been distracted all morning. It’s not conducive to productivity.”

 _And this_ is _conducive?_ Hank thought, as if he wasn’t sliding his hands down Connor’s shoulders to his wrists, thumbs grazing over the sculpted chassis that emulated bone beneath the synthetic skin. “So what are you asking for here?”

“I’m asking you to get me off in the archive room and then I may repay the favor.”

“Fucking Christ, Connor.” Hank could feel his face burning red. “You got a smart mouth on you for a guy who— _no_ , no ‘smart mouth’ jokes, I can see you thinking it.”

Connor did not make the joke; didn't say anything, in fact, but gave him the small smile that they were both quickly learning could get Hank to do anything.

“Come on,” Hank muttered. “Away from the evidence, at least.”

He closed his hand around one of Connor’s and—oh god, did that make Hank feel big—guided him to the corner of the room closest to the exit, where the wall was bare, glossy black marble rather than shelves laden with crucial government property. “Those cameras off?” he asked as he crowded Connor against the wall, barely refraining from touching him before he got confirmation.

“They’ve been off since ‘deviant is right’.” Connor’s voice already sounded distant, his eyes dark. The tip of his tongue was visible, wetting his lips.

“Good.” Even if this hadn’t been his idea (or his first choice of workplace deliquency, to be honest), it was undeniably gratifying to take the flesh of Connor’s neck into his mouth and suck, worrying it with his teeth.

“Hank!” Connor gasped, his eyes flying open like he’d startled himself.

“Shh, baby, even if the cameras are off you gotta be quiet.” Hank was already fumbling with Connor’s belt buckle, and if his hands were shaking a bit, that was between him, Connor, and the evidence room. “And this doesn’t happen regularly, all right?” he added, managing to sound at least somewhat stern. “This is a one-time, just-got-a-dick freebie. Last thing I need Fowler adding to my disciplinary file is jerking my partner off in the office.”

“Yes, yes, I know, just— please— please touch me.” Connor was already babbling and Hank didn't even have his fly open yet. He really must have been thinking about it all morning.

As much as Hank would have loved to drag this out under other circumstances, it was only a matter of time before someone tried that palm scanner. He unzipped Connor’s pants roughly and dragged them partway down his thighs, freeing his erection, already flushed with whatever magic the Jericho Foundation had worked to emulate human blood.

Not wasting any time, Hank wrapped his hand around Connor’s dick, giving it a rough stroke and squeezing the head in the meat of his palm. Connor’s head snapped back, cracking against the wall so hard that Hank hissed through his teeth in sympathy, but the android barely seemed to notice. His face had already crumpled into a grimace of pleasure and, for better or for worse, this was clearly going to be over quickly.

“Hhhank, Hank, Hank, _hahh_ ,” Connor whispered, the “H”s of Hank’s name breathy and hissed. His hips were already beginning to work, chasing the friction of Hank’s hand with greedy haste. Hank gripped him tight, half-jerking him off and half-letting the android fuck into his hand. When throaty whines started to climb out of Connor’s throat, for lack of a better option, Hank covered his mouth with his lips, kissing him into muffled quiet.

Connor's fingers curled tight in the hairs at the back of Hank's neck, tight enough to make Hank's eyes sting and water, but at the same time the pain shot straight to his groin. He probably should've supposed he wasn't getting out of this without a hard-on of his own, but that was a problem for future Hank. _I may return the favor_ , he’d said. Christ.

Moisture gathered between Hank’s thumb and forefinger, dripping sluggishly down the back of his hand, and Hank glanced down just in time to see a drop of pre-cum drool from Connor’s cock and hit the tile with a _plip_. A lot of things had gone through his mind when Connor proposed this, but for some reason he hadn’t considered the very real issue of making a mess. At least, unlike a human’s, Connor’s cum was completely clear, almost like lube. Still, that was a janitorial call Hank wasn’t that eager to make.

Thinking fast, Hank pulled out the handkerchief he usually kept in the pocket of his jeans—the handkerchief everyone liked to call him old-fashioned for carrying, as a matter of fact. He hadn’t anticipated its fate as an android cum rag when he’d bought it, but he knew it’d be good for something. He kept it close in his left hand, letting it catch the fluid Connor spilled as Hank continued to stroke him with his right.

It wasn't hard to tell when Connor was close. If the frantically blinking LED wasn’t a dead giveaway, his mouth dropped open, looking almost like he was quietly sobbing, and the air left whatever biocomponents he had for lungs in rapid, shallow gasps. “Gonna come?” Hank asked anyway, and Connor keened at the suggestion. “Yeah, come on. Come for me, gorgeous.”

That was all it took for Connor’s face to seize in a silent wail, and he came into Hank’s waiting handkerchief, hips jerking erratically. Hank made sure to catch everything in the square of cloth, slowly milking all the android had as he came down. When he’d finally finished, Connor slumped back with his palms pressed against the wall behind him, legs actually trembling.

“That good, huh?” Hank couldn’t help teasing, whistling softly. “Made the android’s legs shake.”

“Why do you think it was on my mind all day?” Connor answered, sounding fatigued. It made Hank’s lips quirk up. _Point to Anderson._

While he waited for Connor to recover, Hank became newly aware of the sodden handkerchief in his hand and grimaced; he spent a few seconds scanning the room for a place to discard it before giving up and gingerly tucking it into his back pocket. Connor wrinkled his nose. “You got a better idea?” Hank prompted.

Connor didn’t dignify that with an answer, instead straightening to his full height and fastidiously putting his clothing back into its characteristic order. Then, without missing a beat, he reached a hand out to Hank’s belt.

Hank caught his wrist. “Leave it.”

“But you’re—”

“Yeah, I know. It’ll go down. Got a personal policy against coming at work.”

Connor gave him a wry smile. “That's a little hypocritical of you.”

“Yeah, I contain multitudes, what do you want.”

That hungry look was back on Connor’s face, and this time Hank was fairly sure it was deliberate. “Please, Lieutenant,” he said in a soft voice, warm and husky. “I said I’d return the favor, and I intend to keep my word.”

Hank didn’t argue, just exhaled heavily and loosened his grip around Connor’s wrist, which Connor took as the permission that it was. Switching their positions, Connor guided Hank to lean his back against the wall, then went about gently— _lovingly_ , even—opening his pants and taking out his cock. Then, rather than wrapping his hand around him like Hank expected, he sank to his knees.

“Connor, what the hell…” was all the response Hank could muster. When an argument didn’t follow, Connor put out his tongue and gave him a tentative kitten lick along the slit of his cock. A longer swipe, curling around the sensitive spot under the head. And then he swallowed him down to the base.

They had only done this once before, Connor sucking him off; he was able to easily accommodate all of Hank in his mouth, but his technique wasn't really there yet, mostly just holding him snugly in his mouth as he bobbed his head like a particularly enthusiastic fleshlight. It was still good though, especially when he slipped past Connor's mouth into his throat, which was soft and warm for reasons he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

Hank was just getting into Connor’s rhythm when the android suddenly stopped and pulled off him. “Hey, come on, that was just getting—”

The words died in his throat when he realized why Connor had stopped; from outside the door, there was the sound of muffled cursing, followed by a thump that sounded like something had collided with the wall.

“It’s Detective Reed,” Connor said quietly.

“Yeah, no shit,” Hank grimaced. “He can’t get in, right?”

Connor turned his attention back to Hank’s groin, curving his hands around Hank’s hips. “Correct, but he’ll be on his way to the IT department now. We should hurry. If you would put your hands in my hair, Lieutenant.” And then he opened his mouth, shifting forward to let the head of Hank’s cock rest on his tongue.

“Connor,” Hank began slowly. This could not be actually happening. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“This will go faster if you set the pace,” Connor backed off Hank’s dick to say matter-of-factly.

What. “Are you asking me to…?”

Connor gave him a smile that seemed intended to be reassuring, but was nothing of the sort. “It’s all right. You can’t choke me, Hank.”

_You can’t choke me, Hank._

_You can’t choke me, Hank._

_You can’t—_

That was apparently the trigger phrase to wholesale break Hank’s brain, because there was not a conscious thought in his head as he wound his fingers into his partner’s hair and Connor took him back into his mouth. Holding Connor in place, he began to thrust shallowly into his mouth, still not entirely sure this was actually happening. Two days into Connor’s sex life and Hank was already face-fucking him in their place of work. He hoped this trajectory leveled out soon or he was going to be out of his depth by the end of the week.

From where he knelt on the floor, Connor trained his eyes up at Hank as much as he could at that angle, watching. Keeping his left hand on Hank’s hip, he slid the other between his legs. The pads of Connor’s fingertips pressed into the sensitive flesh behind his balls and Hank felt the tingle of an electrical current, that trick from the other night. It buzzed into him, through him, sending sparks up his spine and his dick throbbing.

“God,” Hank groaned, and it came out half on an incredulous laugh. “That’ll work.”

Just as he’d said, Connor didn’t seem fazed by Hank taking his mouth like this at all—in fact, he was making muffled moaning sounds around Hank’s cock, his free thumb rubbing gently, distractedly back and forth against Hank’s hip, like an affectionate windshield wiper. Testing the waters further, Hank picked up the pace, thrusting deeper and faster into Connor’s throat, and the android responded with an emphatic moan.

“Shit,” Hank gasped, freezing in place. “Was that okay?”

Connor looked up at him with a drunken expression before letting his eyes slide closed and nuzzling his nose into Hank’s stomach. Hank got the message: that was very okay.

He returned to pistoning his hips, pressing his lips together hard against the involuntary noises that wanted to work their way out of his throat. God knew what his face was doing, the muscles there felt scrunched, but he couldn’t really bring himself to care, not when his cock was down Connor’s throat and Connor’s lips were around the root of him and his fingers— were—

“Fuck. Gonna come,” he grunted, half-slurring the words. Connor hummed in acknowledgement and gently squeezed his balls against the heel of his hand. 

Hank barely had the presence of mind to suppress his groan as he burst in Connor’s mouth, his throat. It was his turn to brace himself, shaky-legged, against the wall—in fact, he may have sunk down to the floor if Connor’s firm hands hadn’t moved to support some of his weight. He didn’t even care if someone walked in on them in that moment, if he was being perfectly honest. He’d go down as the luckiest fucker in the history of the DPD.

Connor waited long enough for Hank's breathing to even out and his legs to steady, then tucked him back into his pants and refastened his zipper and belt, giving his groin an affectionate pat. “Look alive,” he murmured, his face turned up to Hank with a lopsided smile.

Connor stood, and Hank’s eyes refocused to see the skin on his right hand rippling back over the glossy white of his chassis. A moment later, the door to the evidence room slid open, revealing an IT technician Hank didn’t know and a very irritated-looking Gavin Reed.

Reed’s eyes landed on Hank and Connor and his face soured further. “The fuck are you girls doing in here?”

Connor folded his hands behind his back and gave Reed a pleasant smile; Hank took the opportunity to return to the shelves to collect his data pad and make sure he didn’t look like he just got thoroughly blown. “Excellent timing, Detective Reed,” he heard Connor say mildly. “It seems that the palm scanner broke down—I was just about to call a technician myself.”

“Yeah, I bet you were,” Reed muttered as Hank sauntered back over to Connor, trying to look casual. Reed eyed him up and down, squinting. “Hell’s the matter with you?”

He must not have recovered as much as he’d thought, but given that Reed wasn’t howling, he didn’t seem to have figured out what had actually been going on. Hank counted his blessings that Reed wasn’t the brightest on the force. “Nothing your smiling face can’t fix, Reed,” he said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Room’s all yours. We’re takin’ lunch.”

Reed watched them with a surly expression as they headed for the door, but kept his mouth shut, to Hank’s eternal gratitude. Until Hank had one foot in the hallway, that is, when Reed’s voice called out to him.

“Hey, Anderson. This your— ugh.”

Hank looked over his shoulder to see Reed’s face twist in disgust and his fingers unfurl around a white ball of cloth—the handkerchief that must have fallen out of Hank’s pocket. 

Hank grinned. “Never seen that before in my life,” he said, and turned to follow Connor down the hall.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading my dumb smut! Also I'm on Twitter and I'm nice! https://twitter.com/havenwolds


End file.
